New Ulm weekly review. [volume] (New Ulm, Minn.) 1878-1892, 1887-08-03

out. The yender of lamps flew at him
with torrent of Italian Bus old
Marco, hold ng the door open but a
little way, admitted first Lucy, then
myself and then closed it in the face
of the vender and pushed the great
bolt, the massive portal was 50 thick
that we could not hear the torrent of
vowels which was no doubt surging
against the outer surface.
We found ourselves in vaulted hall
and in spite of the summer heat the dus-
ky air was here so cool that felt myself
slightly shiyering. In dull. lifeless
voice, the old keeper was asking our
pleasure. I explained. A light came
suddenly into his eyes under their
heavy, creased wrinkled lids, he
Strengthened himself and even his
voice changed and grew strong. Yes,
the art treasures were all there; their
excellence should see them if they
would have the afability to follow.
They had the affability but not the
breath. The keeper, old as he was,
went up the broad stone stairway so
rapidly that excellence was left behind
obliged to come more slowly. The old
palace was built after the usual Floren-
tine fashion. Below had been the
servants offices; next came COM
paratively low half-story and then
above began the stretch of vast apart
ments with lofty ceilings and mar BILE
floors, which whether furnished or UNI
furnished, are unlike the American
home. The Florentine idea was cool
ness and dusky, open space; the rich
ness, it there was any, came from the
old pictures on the walls, the statue in
the niche, and the wide-mouthed
jars. filled with flowers on the floor
and from what we call furniture. y
But here there was nothing not even
the jars; the walls and floors of the
stately rooms were bare as we followed
him; but could never reach him. He
kept always in advance. His manner,
too, was peculiar; as he entered each
room he waved his hand slowly, first
to the right, then to he left, as if to
call cur attention to something But
there was nothing to be seen. We con-
stantly expected to come upon an old,
shadowed picture, but the walls re-
NAMED quite bare. At the end of the
long suit he went into the hall and
began to ascend second stately stair
way leading to the upper story.
'.Shall we followp'' said Lucy.
Perhaps there is som ething above y
l answered. But we found only an
other procession of rooms like those be-
low, equally large, dusky and lofty, and
equally bare. The keeper still in adj
vance waving his hand in the same
slow way.
Lucy ran after him. 'sBut the pict-
ures?' she said in Italian; "where are
theyP"
.'Does their graciousness not observe
them? They are everywhere, he
gravely answered..
Lucy came back to me startled.
"Shall we go any farther?' she whis-
pered.
''Oh, yes,'' I said. Gwen if his
mind is somewhat weakened, as it
seems to be, he is probably quite harm
less. There may still be something
and l confess am curious"
When he had at last gone through all
these rooms the keeper turned down a
corridor leading around the court; from
it opened smaller rooms, all empty.
At the end of the corridor he unlocked
a door and stood waiting
4 'sThis, he said, sis the family
chapel. Here, as their illustriousness
will observe, is our only fresco; our
others are all paintings in OIL
The chapel was small, the smallest
room we had seen; it was of peculiar
shape, the rounding arch of the ceiling
beginning not at the top of the walls
but at the floor. It was quite bare.
save for a small stone altar; and as the
colored glass of the window above had
been replaced by coarse white panes.
a flood Of clear golden light came in,
very different from the somber gloom
below.
ooh, how lovely!'' cried Lucy, for
getting ali about the old Keepers
singularities in sudden outburst of
enthusiasm. | echoed her cry. For
there, on the back wall which faced
the altar, there cleaned out an angel
so beautiful that it seemed to me then.
as in recollection it seems to me now.
the most heavenly vision upon which
my earthly eyes have rested. The
figure was boldly painted, not quite the
size OF life; it was not flying, but SEEM
ed to have just ceased its flight. Its
arms were full of the Florentine lilies
our own tleur de luce and upon it's
face and in its lovely eyes, which look
ed at us, there shone the smile which
gave, probably, the mysterious charm.
For it was a smile not of earth-a smile
like that which we dream will greet us
when, standing alone on the threshold
of the next world, we see coming to
meet us those we have loved best here,
but a remembrance. The angel was
alone; the edges OF it's white robe, of
the glory around its head, and Of the
lily branches it bore, were indistinct,
merged in the old whitewash with
which all the remainder Of the wall
was covered; it leaned toward us out of
this blankness like the star seen
through the single rift in dull gray
cloud.
Il must come here every day and
sketch it, = said Lucy; ..or. at least, try
- A r "a